


Be There

by domesticadventures



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Coda, Episode: s12e12 Stuck In The Middle (With You), First Kiss, M/M, Mutual Pining, POV Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-20
Updated: 2017-02-20
Packaged: 2018-09-25 22:09:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9848399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/domesticadventures/pseuds/domesticadventures
Summary: Concern is rolling off of Dean in waves, and underneath that is fear and desperation and a dozen different types of longing that, for reasons Castiel still doesn’t understand, Dean has never acted on.





	

Dying is different when it happens slowly.

Concern is rolling off of Dean in waves, and underneath that is fear and desperation and a dozen different types of longing that, for reasons Castiel still doesn’t understand, Dean has never acted on.

Dean tells him it’s not that bad, that he just needs time, but no one is a good enough liar to make that one believable. Even if Dean were, it wouldn’t matter. Castiel knows exactly what Dean’s denial looks like.

He knows exactly how this is going to go, too, in spite of Dean’s protestations. He can feel the rot radiating out from the wound, spreading through his chest, crawling down his arms and numbing his legs. Time moves on, and the last thing it’s going to do is heal him.

Castiel gathers the last shreds of strength left to him and takes a deep breath. These will be his last words, and he wants to make sure they’re good ones.

He knows it’s cowardly to tell the Winchesters how he feels only now, when he knows it won’t cost him anything, when he won’t have to deal with the fallout. _I love you_ feels strange and unfamiliar in his mouth, but he doesn’t regret not saying it sooner. The words scare them all, especially Dean. He can see it in the way Dean can’t meet his eyes when he says it. He recognizes it for the rejection it is, and some small part of him is glad he won’t have to live with that.

It’s that same part of himself, he suspects, that desperately wants someone he loves to sit next to him during his last moments, to hold his hand and brush his hair from his forehead. But if telling them to go will prevent them from being damned along with him, he would rather die alone.

Castiel looks up at his family and tells them to do the only thing that makes sense, the only thing they can possibly do. He tells them to run.

They refuse, like it’s just that simple. Like it’s the only option. Like he’s someone worth dying for. Dean tells him he’s family and they’re not leaving him behind, and suddenly Castiel is a lot less sure and a lot more scared. That same small part of him even has the audacity to be grateful, and he can’t find the words to tell them to leave again.

Against all odds, he lives. They all live. If he didn’t know better, he might call it a miracle.

Dean was going to be the last thing Castiel looked at before he died, and now, as they help him up off the floor, Dean can’t seem to take his eyes off him. He looks almost awed. It’s strange to be looked at that way -- like he’s done something incredible even though he almost died. It’s nothing special. It’s something everyone the Winchesters have ever loved has attempted at one time or another.

\--

It’s a long drive home and Castiel is exhausted. It’s silent in his truck as he follows behind the Impala, and before long, his vision starts to blur. He loses focus for a second before he snaps back to attention as his wheels drift over onto the shoulder. It takes only a moment for him to correct his error, but Dean is already flashing his lights and pulling to the side of the road.

Castiel frowns as he follows suit, coming to a stop behind the Impala. By the time he unbuckles himself and opens his door, Dean, Sam, and Mary are already out of their seats, glancing at each other the roof as Dean tosses Sam the keys.

“Why are we stopping?” Castiel asks as Dean walks towards him.

Dean comes to a stop in front of him, looking him up and down. Castiel can still feel his worry as a constant low thrum in the background. “You were drifting off the road, man,” he says. “I’m taking over.”

Castiel huffs a sigh. He feels ridiculous. “I’m fine.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “In that case, I’m just here to keep you company. C’mon,” he says, holding out his hand.

Castiel stares at Dean for a long second as he wiggles his fingers expectantly. He decides he’s too tired to argue. “Fine,” he says, pulling his keys from his pocket and placing them in Dean’s open hand before walking around his truck to get in the passenger seat.

Dean slides in behind the wheel, turning the keys in the ignition and leaving the truck in park while he fiddles with the the settings. He moves the seat back and changes the angles of all the mirrors and even adjusts the height of the steering wheel. Castiel spent days getting everything just right, and now he’s going to have to fix it all later. He stifles a sigh and settles into his seat.

“You’re low on gas,” Dean says as he finally shifts into drive and pulls back onto the road. “Bet your gas mileage is even worse than ours is.” He doesn’t seem to expect any response beyond Castiel’s acknowledging _mmm,_ because he continues, “It’s not a bad ride, though. Pretty smooth.” Dean pats the steering wheel, then looks up into the rearview mirror, tweaking the angle again, before reaching for the radio. He presses the knob, and it powers on in the middle of a loud, angry sermon. “Wow, no thank you,” Dean says, twisting the dial. The next station’s burst of cheerful, energetic music earns a “pass,” and the one after that a “maybe we should get you some tapes.”

It’s kind of nice, Castiel thinks, as Dean moves through the different stations. His frustration has begun to subside, and the snippets of sounds and voices and static mix with Dean’s quiet running commentary in a way that’s almost peaceful. Dean’s worry has faded, too, leaving in its place a soft, steady contentment that Castiel lets wash over him as he leans his head against the window and watches the moonlit landscape go by.

\--

The next thing Castiel knows, he’s waking to Dean smacking his arm and saying, “Hey, we’re home.”

He gets out more slowly than Dean does, so by the time he’s closing his door, Dean has already circled around to stand next to him. There’s a split second where he looks at Castiel and frowns before he covers it up with a smile.

Castiel raises an eyebrow. “What?”

“Uh,” Dean says. His worry is back again, buzzing in Castiel’s ears. “It’s just. Your clothes.”

Castiel looks down at himself, at the clothes that are still bloody and torn. He makes a horrific sight. “Oh,” he says, mending his clothing with a wave of his hand. “Sorry.” The effort takes more out of him than he expected, leaving him lightheaded and swaying where he stands.

Dean steadies him with a hand on his shoulder and another on his chest. “Woah, hey, take it easy,” he says. “Not what I was suggesting, but okay.”

“I’m fine,” Castiel says. He shrugs his shoulder and Dean pulls his hands back, letting him stand on his own. “I just need to rest.”

“Yeah, of course,” Dean says. He gestures towards the stairway with a jerk of his head. “C’mon. We’ll get you all set up.”

Castiel trails behind Dean down the stairs and into the bunker, then follows him as he rummages through their closets, grabbing sheets and pillows and blankets. Dean leads him to a room just down the hall from his own and sets his armful of linens on a chair next to the unmade bed.

Castiel stands in the middle of the room as Dean begins stretching a fitted sheet over the mattress. “You know, I meant what I said,” Dean says as he works. “You’re family. And this is your home, if you want it. You can stay here whenever you want. You don’t have to be away all the time.”

Castiel is silent for a long moment as he watches Dean pull the next sheet from the pile and smooth it over the bed. “It’s not about what I want,” he says. “It’s about fixing my mistakes. Lucifer’s child is still out there. That’s more important.”

“No, it isn’t,” Dean says stubbornly. “It’s not more important.”

“You know that’s not true,” Castiel says.

Dean stops what he’s doing to turn to Castiel. “Why are you fighting me on this?” he asks.

“We’re not fighting,” Castiel says.

Dean throws his hands in the air and picks up one of the blankets. “I just thought maybe you’d want to stick around, after what you said back there,” Dean says. Before Castiel can respond, Dean continues, “I mean, it kind of seemed like you told me you love me.”

Castiel tenses. He doesn’t know what Dean wants from him, but he’s pretty sure he’ll do more harm than he already has if he tries to take it back or downplay it now. “I did,” he says helplessly. “I do.”

Dean is silent as he spreads out the blanket and grabs a pillow. “You said it because you thought you were going to die,” Dean says, stuffing the pillow into a case. “Because you thought you wouldn’t have to have this conversation.”

Castiel hesitates. “That was the assumption,” he admits.

“Well, I want to have it,” Dean says, but the nervous energy radiating off of him tells a different story.

“Do you really?” Castiel asks. He’s tired and aching and just wants to rest, to do anything but hear Dean try to let him down easy. “You could watch me dying, but you couldn’t look me in the eye when I told you I love you. You can’t even look me in the eye now.”

Dean drops the pillow onto the bed and sits down next to it. “Yeah, well,” he says, deflating a little as he looks down at his hands. “I have a lot more experience with one than the other.”

“You think I’m any different?” Castiel says.

“I--” Dean starts. He glances up at Castiel briefly before looking back down at the floor. “Listen, you get it, right, that there’s different ways you can mean what you said?”

“Yes, Dean, I get it,” Castiel says. “I’m not a child.”

“I wasn’t--” Dean says. “I know that, Cas, Jesus. It’s just that there’s love and then there’s. Love.”

“Well, if I had been confused,” Castiel says dryly, “that definitely would have cleared it right up.”

Dean drags a hand over his face. He takes a deep breath, then turns to look right at Castiel. “You know,” he says, “sometimes you’re so frustrating that it almost makes me wonder why I love you.”

Castiel freezes. For the first time in hours, he feels wide awake.

“Why?” Castiel says. There have been so many opportunities before, so many chances they never took. “Why are you telling me this now?”

Dean manages to hold his gaze for a few long moments before he looks back down and fidgets with the cuff of his shirt. “I dunno,” he says, shrugging. “I guess I’m just getting tired of almost missing my chance.”

“I--” Castiel says. “I understand.”

“Yeah?” Dean says, looking up at him again. Swirling around him is his fear and hope and all the longing with which Castiel is so familiar. “So are we gonna take it this time or what?”

“What?” Castiel asks.

Dean huffs a half-laugh. “C’mon, man,” he says, gesturing to Castiel with one hand. “Can I kiss you or not?”

Castiel swallows hard. “Okay,” he breathes.

Dean pushes himself off the bed, closing the gap between them with three swift steps. Dean slows once he’s in front of him, though, bringing his hands up carefully and settling them on the sides of Castiel’s’ face before he leans in and kisses him, the press of his lips slow and tentative. Dean brushes against the fine hairs on the back of Castiel’s neck with his fingers, strokes the side of Castiel’s face and the skin just beneath his ears with his thumbs.

Dean is all bravado in public, bold declarations and loud jokes and wide gestures, but for all that, Castiel knows he’s a different person in private. He’s quieter, gentler, more earnest. It’s wonderful and terrifying to be the recipient of that tenderness, he thinks, as he reaches up and slides his hands up Dean’s back, pulling him closer.

He had wanted Dean to be with him when he died.

He can’t wait for Dean to be with him while he lives.


End file.
